Lightbulbs and scars
by VoteSaxonForMinisterOfMagic
Summary: hello lovelies;) well, this story is going to consist of bountiful smut, that being of a John and Sherly type. Well, it is a College!AU so be aware. Have fun and leave the flames. It's written my wonderful girlfriend and I, so enjoy. It is rated M for upcoming smut scenes and self harm matters. (Please Rate and Review)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! And welcome to chapter one of our Johnlock college AU. Please do enjoy. This is written by my lovely girlfriend and I (Enterprise-NCC-1701-A). **

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**DISCLAIMER: We do not own any of these characters.**

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The drive to the new college, named Baker Academy, was a long a tedious journey for 16 year old John Watson. He could not yet drive, so he had to have his parents drive him down. The college itself was based upon Victorian design, and John was sure many people, like himself, would find the architecture beautiful and grand. Upon arrival he found himself bombarded with slips, notes and his girlfriend, Irene. His father, an old timely veteran of war, nodded John goodbye before dismissing himself. His mother, on the other hand, took the liberty of crying in front of the entire college and flinging herself onto poor John. He made unwelcome 'goodbyes' and 'farewells' and traded mobile numbers with his sister, whom he did not expect to show up.

Aiming to get a start on the year, John decided to start conversing with other students; he has never been good with the whole 'social life business' but he had convinced himself that he would get at least two friends. He spotted a girl, only five feet away from him, who had been abandoned by her family already. She wasn't too pretty, but no means ugly, with her mousey brown hair and matching eyes. As he leant over to introduce himself Irene stumbled in front of him.

"What were you going to do John? Get her mobile number?!" She stuttered rudely.

"Not here Irene, it our first da-"

"Oh, hushing me now, are we?! Am I not good enough for you now?!" She added, her voice began raising. John began blushing violently before she caught wind of the situation and shut up. She caught John by his hand and he was dragged away by Irene to Hall One. Unlike most colleges available in the city of London, Baker Academy was filled with two halls, one for assemblies and one for exams, 59 classrooms, including laboratories and kitchens, and a fully equipped student accommodation area, which was separate from the classroom block.

On the way to Hall One, John marvelled at the high ceilings and the care taken in the architecture. Irene became quickly annoyed with John as all of his attention was not placed directly onto her. She, from John's view, was a tall, beautiful young woman with a bright personality and a different view of life. However, in other people's eyes she had a criminal perspective on things. Her mind was very fast to act, and she got her head around problems almost instantaneously. This often lead to people becoming threatened by her grandeur and most would go to lengths to avoid eye contact with her. Yet also, eye contact with this creature would mean having a frightful battle of the minds and will power.

Within two minutes and twenty-six seconds (calculated by the lovely Irene), John and his companion his 'better half' arrived at Hall One. Here they were told where their dorm rooms were and were then given an appropriate key, and a starter pack for conduct and rules that were in place at the college.

"Room 221 B. The 'B' is for the boys segment of the school. If we find you sneaking off to the girls side to find your dashing lady friend," the man pointed creepily at Irene whilst pausing to think, "you shall find out what the consequences are when you cross that line." The man continued to drone on about various school rules and where to find certain classrooms before John politely dismissed himself.

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Throughout the journey to 221B John was greeted by almost every member of staff, as if to lure him into a false sense of security. He was a man, if you can call him that, he was a sixteen year old with the height of a fourteen year old, who never became overwhelmed or amazed easily; however, he walked round the school in complete awe, but tried to hide it. he wasn't very good at this, and perhaps it was the gaping mouth that showed this. He arrived at a corridor lined with doors. 223. 222. ahh, 211. finally, he thought to himself with a big sigh. He had reached his final and probably only destination for the day. Inside the dorm room, he heard a distant yelp, a faint spill of a liquid and a piece of paper ripping furiously. John entered the room cautiously, passing the beds, not noticing that already both beds one the right was piled high with all of the other man's belongings. The man cursing in the corner of the room was tall, at least 6 foot tall, with sharp, high cheekbones, a bizarre posture (as he was very straight backed, stood tall, and puffed out his chest), and a mop of curly black hair on top of his head.

"Sherlock Holmes, and you are?" The man inquired somewhat rudely.

"John Watson, nice to meet you." John tries to ignore the hostility in the newly named Sherlock's rough voice. Sherlock huffed and quickly zoned out of the world and back into his miniature experiment consisting of a knife, some flesh like substance, which actually happened to be ferret's heart, and a blue liquid. "Is that even allowed?" John inquired worriedly, he did not want to get kicked off on his first day because of some arrogant and self-indulgent room mate. Sherlock gave a head movement of some description and John knew just to leave the man alone.

John attempted to start to unpack his stuff after removing Sherlock's "items" (which were plentiful and diverse in nature) onto the other bed. Without turning his head Sherlock muttered, "do be careful. My sock index is within that lot, and I do wish you to be very careful with it." After emptying the bed, two drawers and a time-forgotten desk he started putting various items away. Three bountiful cases later, he had completed his first task.

"Hello boys," a decrepit, grey haired man walked in. "I am Professor Zuchken. I am the head of your year, which I believe is 12." Then the man started to rant on about various timings such as lunch, breakfast and dinner. John at least tried to act interested, whereas Sherlock looked the man up and down briefly before turning back to his work, muttering all the while. Professor Zuchken left, closing the door as if he had a thousand times, (which, let's be honest, he has) and Sherlock merely muttered, "sex addict," casually before turning to face John. He looked dumbfoundedly back at the man who just accused a man of authority of being a sex addict.

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**Thanks for reading chapter one! More chapters should be coming shortly.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: Welcome to chapter two of Lightbulbs and scars. Thanks for reading so far and please don't forget to rate and review:3 **

**The next chapter should be up soon.**

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"Excuse me?"

"His left bicep was twitching but he didn't notice, a common side effect of withdrawal. But what was he having withdrawal symptoms from? His loose clothing, the wrinkles on his neck and his right thumb movement all concluded to withdrawal of sex. Oh, but Sherlock, how did you notice all that?" He mocked, "I observed. You look, you don't see. Can you pass me that test tube?" Sherlock had asked a question, but had implemented a command. Completely taken back by the sheer rudeness, John gave a face of utter disgust at the taller man, but when it was obvious Sherlock wasn't going to apologise, he complied and picked up the test tube, but instead of giving it nicely and politely, John threw it at Sherlock, smashing it accidentally on the back wall. "Careful!" Sherlock yelled, "you almost hit Ruby!" He pointed to a human skull sitting on top of his desk nonchalantly, making John almost gag in disgust.

"What the- Sherlock, is that a real skull?!" John demanded.

"It's almost second lesson.. I must be going.." Sherlock answered, before slipping out of the room silently, avoiding the question , they still had 15 minutes to walk a few metres, so John did not see the need to rush. A few moments later John was back to sticking posters onto the walls. This was the first time he noticed the massive periodic table pinned above Sherlock's bed. John couldn't understand Sherlock. _Was he emotionally ruined? Or hated everyone? And yet, something seemed relatable about him. But nevertheless, he was a complete dick._

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When John arrived at classroom 9, he was greeted with piercing eyes and a teacher who immediately started questioning why he was 10 minutes late to his first class of the year. The classroom was average size compared to the other rooms he had seen on the trek here. Each student had a lab partner and a desk with stools and a sink. At the back of the room there were many benches which have many stains and graffiti sprawled over them. John must have overrun, but he apologised profusely before seating himself on the only available seat, which was next to Sherlock. _Oh God, I share a room, and now I have to share a table?! For fuck's sake,_ John thought to himself. Avoiding Sherlocks pinned eyes, he sunk into his chair and started reading the graffiti before getting his books out. He chuckled at the sight of two previous students who had been writing flirtatious messages to each other.

"Nice to see you have joined us John." Sherlock sniggered. It had seemed that Sherlock had already come to the conclusion to block John out and ignore him for the rest of the day, and possibly year.

"Can I copy your notes?" John asked, pulling out a green Biology book and he began labeling it. Sherlock nodded slightly, and passed John his perfect book, complete with the whole lessons work. Sherlock's writing was almost unreadable, but John got by. "Earlier, you... What's the word.. 'deduced..?' Professor Zuchken. What have you 'deduced' about me?" John asked unsure if he should actually be asking it. _Sure, Sherlock had his flaws but this could be interesting_, he thought to himself. Sherlock stared at John for a long while, before finally closing his eyes and started talking under his voice.

"Your father comes from England, and fought in the Cold War and you are proud of your military heritage. Your mother is somewhat less proud of what your father has done so you try to hide your military hopes from her, which are to join the army. You have one brother - no, sister. And you consider yourself to have many friends but in fact you have only a few. Maybe even none. You are a bi-curious young man and you have a very over-controlling girlfriend, whom of which you are scared of. She stopped you from talking to another girl this morning by causing a scene. Do I need to carry on?" Sherlock took a shallow breath and returned to his periodic table, which they would need for their experiment on glucose.

"Mr. Watson, is Sherlock taking your fancy? Please return to your work and stop gawping at him." Professor Diamond shrilled. John returned to his work, red in the face, whilst the whole class started sniggering. _At least I'm at the back of the class_, thought John as he hopefully glanced at the clock, _only 15 minutes left_. The teacher resumed wandering around the classroom, peering over students' shoulders to check their work. John grew tired of Sherlock's moans every time he attempted to make small talk so he left him alone. _What's his problem?_

As Sherlock had finished his work he had turned his attention to categorising the other students into his three categories; boring, brainless and idiotic. Half the class were brainless (even the great Sherlock Holmes couldn't figure out how they got into top set) and the other half were idiots and boring. John was boring and insisted on making petty small talk with Sherlock. Deciding to finally break the awkward silence, Sherlock started to question John. "Was I right? With the deduction?"

"Y-y-yes... How?" John stuttered under his breath, still in shock from the events that happened 10 minutes ago. "But I am not bi-curious! How could you-"

"I observe." Sherlock cut him off, "that's all. Ok, what classes do you take? I think I could help you get at least a B on this subject.. You're currently a C, correct?" John nodded and blushed sheepishly.

"That concludes our lesson for today. Please finish your work for homework and go to your dormitories at once. Break time." Professor exclaimed and the boys walked together, awkwardly, back to their dormitory. On the way back to their room, John spotted people he reconsigned from high school and middle school. He got stopped three times with awkward introductions and swapping of phone numbers. Whereas, the people Sherlock recognised all pointed and mocked him, so he left John and sped off to their dorm.

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Back in their dorm Sherlock instantly started to clean up questioning papers. Naturally, John asked about these papers which started to look like Police documents, but Sherlock simply acted like he couldn't hear him. John turned, again, to organising his school equipment.

A voice came from the door, "Did you miss me?" Irene appeared and her eyes looked immediately onto Sherlock. "Who is that?" She asked dumbly to John, completely ignoring 'Sherlock Holmes' written on the door. Expecting Sherlock to butt in like his usual self and correct her, John kept quiet, much to Irene's annoyance. "Fine. Common John, you don't want to stay around this freak much longer. It might rub off on you." She said matter-of-factly.

"Freak? Sherlocks not a freak..." John said . "Sure, he can be annoying but not a freak."

"What did you just say to me?" Irene challenged. John, afraid she'd have another go, laughed and walked out the room, leaving Sherlock alone, once again.

Sherlock, being alone with his thoughts you be a wonderful or disastrous situation. Wonderful because he has solved many a police matters for his darling brother. Mycroft would often e-mail Sherlock cases that his boyfriend, Lestrade, needed solving. This technically wasn't "allowed" but the Holmes' siblings never cared much for the rules. His latest case that he was working on currently was a simple prostitute murder. Just when he was going to email the conclusion to Mycroft a greasy short man, if you can call him that, walked into the room without knocking. "Anderson." Sherlock greeted rudely as he turned around.

"Sally, this is the incredible Sherlock Holmes!" Anderson laughed.

"Is he really that bad when having sex, Sally?" Sherlock interrupted before turning back to his email.

"I'm surprised you even know what sex is, Sherlock. I'm genuinely shocked," The greasy man replied, trying to maintain his dignity. He turned to Sally, "this is the guy I was talking about. The one who is able to look at you and tell you your own life story. He used to do his little 'party trick' in middle school. Remember that boney? Remember the time you got suspended for telling a teacher why their husband was cheating on them? Remember, Sherly? Aww, you still haven't sorted your hair out, want some wax, I've got wonderful stuff," he said pointing at his greasy hair. Sally, a bit taller than Anderson, started to give out a pesky laugh. Sherlock quickly turned around and looked her up and down for a second before huffing. _Oh, Anderson has got himself a girl. Shame she's gay. And, judging by those clothes, she is the youngest of three girls with a younger brother, her dad is dead and her mum is a drug addict_. Without saying anything, or even turning around, Sherlock pointed to the door and dismissed them both.

"Is that a skull?!" Sally screamed in horror, pointing at Ruby. "Fine, you unsociable git." Sally muttered, shock going quickly, before dragging her boyfriend out of the room, slamming the door behind them. _They definitely go into all three categories; boring, brainless and idiotic._

After 'deducing' Sally, he remembered something that he had deleted when he was only 8 years old. His own father's death. He and his father were close when he was a child and his mother always seemed happier when he was alive. Mycroft was 18 when it happened and he hasn't stopped mourning since. His father died for his Queen and Country in the Police Force. He was on parole and he got a call out for an armed robbery and he got shot in action. At least that was what he was told. Sherlock knew that he had actually committed suicide but had not bothered to tell his brother or mother this potentially important information as he did not deem it necessary. He learnt to delete emotions after this and focus on his work even though he was only 8, he had completed his first case (with little aid from Mycroft, but he would never admit this).


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHORS NOTE: Hello readers:3 thanks for reading so far!**

**Warning: This chapter involves self-harm related issues and it may be triggering to some readers. Please feel free to PM me as both writers (my girlfriend and I) have both got experience in self-harm due to personal expirences and friends. Any hate against this matter will not be tolerated, thank you.**

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John's first day at Baker Academy was an uneventful one. He fitted into all of his classes well, even got a student praise award for being the highest scoring in his physics test. However, his task of gaining new friendships in his first week was changed by his girlfriend. Irene did not think that John needed anyone else in his life other than her and this started to grate on his nerves slightly. Besides this, he had a good day of lessons (biology - with Sherlock, P.E and double physics) and received no homework, which was a bonus. He had adjusted to Sherlocks rants and 'deductions', no matter how accurate or annoying they turned out to be, but John still couldn't understand why everyone seemed to hate him so.

However, Sherlock's day was more eventful. Much like middle school he was shoved around and called things such as '_freak_' or '_nerd_' the whole day. _They all qualify for the three categories_. No-one in the whole school was kind to Sherlock, even the teachers had not even tried to show the simplest of affections. They knew his potential and so pushed him to his limits, even if it were only his first day. However, Sherlock liked being pushed hard. It meant that he always got somewhere and achieved all of his goals. Although, he found it tiresome and laborious, but he worked his head around that.

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Later that night, at around 5 o'clock, classes finished and they had dinner, which happened to be a variety of meats and vegetables, with potatoes and yorkshire puddings, with or without gravy. Dessert was ice cream with different sauces. After the half-hours meal, the boys met again in their room.

"I'm going to go and take a shower," John said, more than awkwardly. He drifted off into the general direction of the en suite bathroom which obviously contained the shower. As the smaller man walked to the shower, Sherlock's mind wandered back to his homework. Because his own laptop was out of arm's reach he leant over and picked up Johns, which was sitting right next to him. Without any concerns of confidentiality, Sherlock opened the laptop which, unfortunately for John, was already on as the last page John was on was still running. Sherlock being, well, himself, opened it up to be confronted with a quiz on 'gay or straight'. _I told you_, he chuckled to himself. Of course, the test had got it completely wrong but it had amazed Sherlock that someone even listened to him.

As Sherlock returned to his thoughts and emails to his _delightful_ brother, his thoughts moved onto the events that happened around 4 months ago. _No, four months next friday and thats three months, two weeks, six days, four hours, 16 minutes_. You see, three months, 2 weeks and 6 days ago Sherlock self-harmed for the last time. He did not tend to make a habit of it, but it was a coping mechanism for the over-brained man. He would often over think all the bullying and the neglect from his mother that he would find himself cutting his legs. He had stopped almost four months ago but due to his withdrawal of his only way of coping he took up the nasty habit of smoking. He had become fully educated in all 6 types of tobacco. Obviously, Sherlock hid both of these from everyone. The _great_ Sherlock Holmes could not be seen self-destructing.

To remove his mind from this situation, he concentrated back onto his` research, "Mind of a criminal; main childhood traumas". Sherlock was so absorbed in his work he almost didn't hear the shower water shut off from inside the bathroom and footsteps leading out of the room. John, wet and only in a towel walked out of the bathroom asking for his clothes. Only to be met by Sherlock raising an eyebrow at the almost naked man and returning back to Johns laptop.

"Sherlock, clothes? fine-" he stormed over to his drawer and collected a pair of loose jeans and a comfy grey jumper. As he stood back up he accidentally dropped his towel, luckily for John, Sherlock was completely oblivious to the situation but that didn't stop John turning a bright shade of red before returning to the bathroom. When John emerged from the small, tiled room, fully clothed, he glanced over to Sherlock who was on John's laptop. "Sherlock!" John exclaimed whilst snatching the laptop from the taller man's grasp. "What is this?" He gawped at the suspicious looking email to a Government Official.

"Nothing. Just hit send and close. Don't ask questions." Sherlock replied.

"Dead prostitute- what? Bloody hell, is this a Police file?" John pressed.

"I simply help a Government party solve crimes for his boyfriend. More questions? No? Good." And with that, Sherlock walked into the shower swiftly. John stood there, dumbfounded, for about two minutes until he closed the emails and jogged into Facebook. '_One notification: Irene posted on your wall: You free tonight baby?;3_' Even though John liked his girlfriend a lot, she was a bitch. _How did I only discover this now?_ He beat himself up for it but stayed with her. Without relying, he logged off and turned to his physics homework. After explaining the Doppler Effect in immense detail a small beeping noise emerged from Sherlocks desk. Thinking it was a text, John ignored it, until it carried on for 48 seconds. John huffed, got up and stormed over, fishing out his laptop and he opened the lid.

"Sherlock hol- who are you?" A posh voice arose from the speaker. Looking at the screen John saw a woman, in her late 50's, wrapped in expensive looking silk clothing and was wearing pearl earrings. Her grey hair scraped behind a rather large hat contrasted with the fake orange tinge of her skin. _Who are you?_

"He's in the shower. Sorry, who are you?" John asked looking confused.

"Just get Sherlock, boy." The lady demanded rudely. After rolling his eyes, John put down the laptop and asked Sherlock to come out of the bathroom before returning to his physics on his bed. As Sherlock came from the bathroom, looking rather frustrated and only in a white sheet which he had wrapped around himself, he shot John a sidewards look of somewhat annoyance. _What did I do this time?_ John asked himself.

"_Mother._" Sherlock spoke. John's mouth formed a small 'o' as it all clicked inside his head. "What do you want?" Sherlock asked rather rudely to the woman who gave him life. John stood up, cleared his throat, gaining Sherlock's attention, nodded and marched neatly out. This was a bad habit John had acquired from his military background.

"What an inconsiderate way to talk to Mother" Mycroft, Sherlock thought as the oldest of the Holmes' siblings walked into the camera shot. Despite his attempts at a diet, Mycroft was openly eating cake and had gained around 3.5 pounds from Sherlocks view. _No, wait, maybe 3.6_.

"Ah, what a delight to see you dearest brother." Sherlock muttered sarcastically. "What do you want mother?"

"Oh, is it too much to ask for a mother to check how her sons first day at college went?" She said, almost jokingly.

"No dearest mother, it is not too much to ask, only that I do not wish to speak to you, and it is very obvious you do not want to speak to me." Sherlock shot a sidewards glare in Mycroft's direction as if to say_ how is the boyfriend. Told mother yet_, and yet again, Mycroft realised what was meant and walked awkwardly out of the camera shot before Sherlock closed the lid of the laptop angrily.

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**Thanks for reading and the next chapter should be up soon. Please don't forget to review :3 and sorry for the short ending, I wanted to update it tonight and kind of rushed. The next chapter(s) should be better, thank you:3**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry it has taken so long to upload this. I also apologise for the iffy ending and the length.. BUT NEVER FEAR. The fluff is coming soon and hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Please remember to review. I love you all :3 **

**Oh, and a little shout out to my girlfriend, thank you for helping me with this.**

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When John eventually crawled out of bed the next day, which was consequently a Friday, he found his room to be empty. Maybe he has gone out, John thought out loud to himself, but he knew full well that Sherlock never leaves the room unless absolutely necessary. There was a clink of metal as the shower turned off and a distant _fuck_ emerged out of their private bathroom. What the- John started thinking to himself but he decided just to get changed and go to breakfast. After leaving the room in a hurry, Sherlock snuck out the room, relieved to be alone. He doesn't want to share a room with John. His absence pleases Sherlock as he carries on his latest handiwork.

As John walked towards the table occupied by Anderson, Sally and Irene, they stopped muttering and started staring at John. _Oh God, what now?_ he mumbled to himself becoming suddenly became apprehensive and very self-aware due to the absence of talking. When he had finally sat down next to his girlfriend Anderson spoke up, "So, Sherlock, huh?" He spat at John through corn flakes, "that _freak_ used to bully me for being 'less intellectually able than me'." Sally shook her head in disgust as Anderson's story went from one extreme to the next. And let me tell you, these extremes were at new heights. First Sherlock was bullying the greasy haired man, next he was spreading rumours about his sexual orientation, then making some apparently idiotic remark about Anderson's bodily cleaning products (generally towards the deodorant - it's for men Anderson had insisted) before finally threatening to kill Andersons family. John knew that the last tale was complete nonsense, however, he was a bit sceptical about this new judgement. As Anderson droned on, sounding more and more robotic and monotone as time went by, Sally was making ridiculous faces and Irene keeped moving a little closer towards John. _What now? Sex in the cafeteria? What does this girl want? How do I tell her I am breaking up with her?_ John thought furiously to himself.

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After about 5 minutes, a boy tripping over a girl and blushing bright red and after Anderson bored himself, John dismissed himself and returned to his room in silence after finishing his apple. John had started to rethink his roommate, _had he bullied Anderson? He can be rude at times..._ John thoughts expanded and he allowed himself to believe the rumors and the other stories Anderson so willing shared at breakfast. As John mumbled to himself in anger at his roommate, he arrived to his room remarkably fast with balled fists and burst through the door, slamming it causing some papers to fly of Sherlock's desk.

"_You bullied Anderson_?" John asked, almost screaming in rage. Sherlock, completely oblivious to the paper gliding around the room, looked up from his own papers in bewilderment. "_Well?_" John poked through the silence Sherlock left behind.

"I- what?" Sherlock stammered as if he didn't hear him.

"_You. Bullied. Anderson_." John spat, anger swelling up inside him. "_AN ANSWER WOULD BE NICE SHERLOCK!_" He screamed into the other man's face.

"No - I -" Sherlock's silence lingered for a few moments before face broke into his normal calm and emotionless face. "I never bullied that greasy haired imbecile." John turned a deep shade of red. "If you must know, he bullied me. All throughout the death of my father, throughout middle and high school. So, if you have to have a shouting match at someone, I recommend the starter of this atrocious rumor. Good day." Sherlock pointed his long index finger to the door and John left out of embarrassment. Just before he had chance to shut the door he heard Sherlock mumble something.

"Excuse me?" John questioned the taller man sheepishly.

"Oh, what? Nothing. I do not wish to go into this with you now. Maybe when you have matured." Sherlock remarked, trying to hide his flushed cheeks by turning away.

"You said something about scars? What scars? I'm training to be a doctor, maybe I could help if you-"

"I'm fine, thank you. See you in Biology last lesson." Sherlock cut across John before shutting the door in his face.

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Four hours later, John, still afraid to enter his dorm to face Sherlock, arrived at his girlfriend's room. He had snuck past the diabolical security systems and entered the shower. As he washed, he heard voices enter the room, he listened closely as Irene's friend gossiped about Sherlock, calling him 'cute' and 'adorable with his curly hair'. From no fault of his own, this made John get worked up and angry towards the girl. After calming himself down, and once the girl left, he exited the room only in his towel, wrapped around his waist, much to Irenes pleasure. "Oh, hi John!" She exclaimed happily and went to hug him tightly. John awkwardly hugged back, with one arm around the girls back and one keeping his towel up securely. "What's wrong John? Scared or something?" Irene teased, pulling lightly at the towel causing John to hold on tighter.

"Not now please, Irene." John scolded, maybe a little too harshly. Irene sulked back onto her bed with her arms folded around her chest in protest. "Sorry. I had a fall out with Sherlock, a massive one. I haven't been back to my room yet, hence why I am here." He lied down next to the long haired girl, letting his aching muscles rest, he had just been on a fast jog around the premises.

"What, Sherlock?" She spat back in disgust, moving away from John as if he had a contagious disease. "Don't tell me, you're gay for him."  
"EW. NO!" John joked back, _of course he wasn't gay_. "But he did tell me that what that kid Anderson said was complete bullshit."

"And you believe him?" Irene started to look worried, as if John's temperature went up.

"I don't know what to believe." John stuttered after a moment of silence. "Can you please give me my jeans and sweater?" Irene threw them at him and he got changed, openly, in front of her. There was no point moving back into the bathroom to get changed, she had seen him naked many a time before this occasion. "I have biology now, see you later." He planted a kiss on the womans head before leaving accordingly.

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As John marched through the busy corridors towards Lab 9 for his biology lesson, dread built up inside him. _An entire hour with Sherlock. What do I say? Do I apologise? Do I ask about the scars? I don't know. Just breathe. Breathe John, breathe._ He thought worriedly to himself. A million and one thoughts crosses his mind as he reached the class. He was, for the first time in his academic life, the second person to arrive. And of course the first person was the one person John did not want to spend anymore time than necessary with, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock nodded acutely to John as a greeting, maybe John isn't that bad he thought to himself, among thousands of deductions that were running through his head. "Hello." Sherlock croaked awkwardly. John, ignoring Sherlocks rare politeness, just stared at the wall opposite them, reading an article on how 'STAR TREK MAY COME TRUE ONE DAY'. Sherlock cleared his throat, interrupting John's rath.

"Yeah, Sherlock?" John asked, half borely.

"I do have to apologise for earlier. It is not in my usual temperament for me to say such a thing, but I am sorry if I hurt you, John." Sherlock muttered.

"I... Um... Wow, thanks Sherlock. I am so sorry too," John replied in awe, trying, in his dismay, to hide his glowing cheeks. As they walked inside the gloomy classroom, Johns spirits lifted slightly as Irene was missing. _How do I break up with her?_ John found himself repeating inside his head as the Professor hummed on about synapses and nerve failings and the consequences. Sherlock carried on merrily with his notes as John failed to pay attention and doodled in his book.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN. MAKE NOTE THAT THE SONG IS NOT MINE AND BELONGS WHOLLY TO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE**

**Here's a new chapter, I hope you enjoy it. This one is a lot longer, to make up for my absence :3 There's a little Johnlock (FINALLY) in this chapter... And a VERY confused Sherlock. Please don't forget to review!**

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A week later, on the second friday of term, John and Sherlock had formed what some may call a mutual friendship. To John, it didn't mean much, just someone to tutor him on all of his subjects and someone to talk to about Irene and other 'college dramas'. At their first meeting, John had assumed that they would not get along and was always quite hostile towards the man. Looking back, he often regretted this, but in his eyes, it was only a week they've known each other, can they really be friends? Yet, he still has second thoughts about Sherlock because of the other members of the college seemed to have a general dislike of him.

On the contrary, it meant everything to Sherlock, although he refused to show it to anyone, even John. Sherlock had never had a friendship before. He had tried to form a few in primary school, but the children would just pull his hair and chant '_brainiac, brainiac, where is your Dad brainiac?_' The children always made fun of Sherlock after they saw him, at the age of seven, crying over his father's death. From that day, Sherlock had always 'deleted' emotions and tried to stay clear of other living human beings. So, to have a friendship with John was very appealing to Sherlock, he just tried to hide his feelings. _Feelings are not an advantage_, his older brother, Mycroft would often tell the younger Sherlock.

Sherlock was often bored by John's ramblings by John and zoned out whilst they occurred, but he secretly enjoyed the company. It had only been a week ago the two men hated each other, now John was rambling on about Irene again.

"It's like she doesn't care, you know?" John carried on. Sherlock acted interested by occasionally mumbling in agreement or shaking his head in disapprovement, at the times he deemed appropriate. But inside his head Sherlock had an inner war commencing. "Just yesterday she said she wanted to break up and this morning I found this on my pillow." John showed Sherlock a letter with 'I LOVE YOU JOHNNY-POO' written on it in disgustingly pink, glittery pen with hearts dotted around the white paper. Sherlock just shook his head and returned to his thoughts as John carried on. "Now she doesn't want to meet up again. I just want all the worrying to be over. I want to be able to spend more time you," John looked shocked at his own words as Sherlock looked up intriguingly. "You know, as a friend," John quickly finished off, embarrassed. "She won't leave me alone some days and then ignores me for days after. How do I break up with her? Sherlock, are you even listening?" Sherlock looked up and nodded acutely before signalling to go on. He had been sitting with his head in his hands trying to shake off the confusing emotions that have been flowing into his head about John. "Oh, ok. Sorry. Anyway, I want to break up with her, I'm just scared." Sherlock felt his heart pull at the last comment.

"Why are you so scared of her? She can't hurt you. Her mere presence clearly troubles you. End the relationship. Being scared is an illogical disadvantage." Sherlock stated, trying to regain control of himself. _I can't have feelings for John_, Sherlock thought to himself.

"Alright, calm down Spock." John joked. "Can you help me with this please? And without the '_aren't ordinary people adorable when they're stuck'_ attitude please." He warned, pointing down to the chemistry homework they were meant to be doing at that point. They had both skipped breakfast, which was not uncommon for Sherlock but John was feeling the full effects of an empty stomach. As Sherlock scooted his chair towards Johns desk, he noticed John wasn't dressed for the day of subjects he had and he had washed in a different smelling shampoo; deciding not to question John on this, he helped him through the elementary chemistry paper he was struggling with half heartedly.

"Can we turn that noise off now?" Sherlock pestered, pointing his head to the stereo which had just started to sing Johns favourite band, My Chemical Romance:

_ "When I was a young boy,_

_ My father took me into the city_

_ To see a marching band."_

"It reminds me of my late father, and I do not need emotional trouble at this present point. I have a test later." Sherlock moaned.

"Wait, your late father? What hap-" John started, taken back. But Sherlock simply responded by turning the stereo off manually and returning to his revision. Of course, Sherlock did not need to revise, but he needed to distract himself from the nagging part of his brain which he cannot delete. He had never had this problem before, but he cannot keep it quiet. He had some sort of emotions towards John that he could not register. He had never felt this way before, and was genuinely scared, thinking that he was broken. _I need to see a Doctor. Something is wrong with me._ He'd constantly repeat inside his head.

"I don't wish to go into it right now, thank you John. Now, if you have noticed the time, which I do not believe you have, it is almost 10 o'clock. That means you need to get out of your current attire and into your p.e kit." Sherlock insisted, looking into John's deep brown eyes. John chuckled to himself, not breaking the neverending eye contact.

"Not going," John smiled, waving a sick note in front of Sherlock. "I really can't face Irene and her 'guy friends'. But that look on your face, priceless!" John, still laughing, got up and left for a shower, leaving Sherlock alone to his thoughts again. About five minutes later, Sherlock knocked lightly on the bathroom door, and said "I'm off to class. And use the old shampoo. It smells better on you," before leaving to maths.

* * *

Whilst Sherlock was in maths, John had the run of the dormitory to himself. Rather than doing the sensible thing of revising for his upcoming tests, he decided to catch up on Doctor Who. He drank roughly his body weight in Mountain Dew to keep him awake though the day, _curse of the student_, his sister called it. Half way through the episode 'The Crimson Horror' there was a knock on the door. Freaking out, John turned off the tv, called "one moment" in the illest voice he could manage and went to splash water on his face before answering the door. When he finally answered the creaky, black door, Irene stood there peevishly, staring at John. _It's like she's staring at my soul. _

"What do you want Irene?" John asked boredly. He had become drastically tiresome of her temper tantrums.

"John! It's that _awful_ Sherlock. He told me you were bored of me on the way to his nerd class!" She shrilled in John's ear as he leant forwards to shut the door behind her to try to maintain most of the noise in their room. _I'll kill him_ he thought to himself angrily.

"Well... Irene..." John started.

"So it's true! You know, I don't deserve this! I could be with someone that actually cares for me. Who wants me!" Her voice began to shake as she raised it. John stood there dumbfounded, which, unfortunately for John, just infuriated the irritable girl more. "That's it John Watson. I have had it up to here with you and that- that- that boy! Do you want this relationship to work or not. If so leave him, change rooms, never even look at that freak again and be with me." She demanded at John who was standing there shocked to his core.

"I - I" He tried to stutter a sentence out but his tongue couldn't manage the words. "Sherlock is a great man. And to be perfectly honest, he is a better friend to me than you ever have been. So yeah. I want to break up with you if that's the terms you _insist _on." This was not the answer Irene had expected as she ran out the room crying. _Thank god_, he thought aloud.

As he returned to his Doctor Who episode, he felt a pang in his heart and for no fault of his own, started crying. _I am a man, I do not cry. I didn't like her anyway. Dammit Sherlock where are you?_ Towards the end of the episode he regained his '_manlines_s' as his dad would say and sat there waiting for the break between period two and three. He lasted to the last few minutes until he had to go to the bathroom, change his clothes and collect his books.

* * *

Meanwhile, as Sherlock arrived to another horrid lesson of maths he asked the teacher if he could switch places to go to the back of the classroom, to move away from Anderson. It was still a mystery, even to the great Sherlock Holmes, how Anderson made it into the advanced course in this college, he never seemed to scrape above a C in their old school. The teacher refused the offer and Sherlock had to sit next to Anderson for the following year now. When Sherlock was weaving throughout the desks to get to his, a piece of paper was thrown into his hair, with '_gay boy_' written on it. He discarded this as petty college drama and tried to ignore the sarcastic comments made by Anderson and his '_posse_'. "Hey, curly, what's this answer?" was the first of the annoying questions to come. Of course, as the teachers did dislike Sherlock, they all ignored all of these pests and just let them occur as long as they weren't disrupting the class, much to Sherlocks annoyance. After 30 minutes, Sherlock had copied all notes, completed all 50 questions on algebra, deducted all the class (including the teacher who was having an affair with one of the spotty boys at the front of the class) and his thoughts turned back to John. The thoughts that were following through his head ranged from John helping him with his unsolved cases to John and Sherlock getting drinks together as a couple. The last thought worried Sherlock. _Surely I cannot have sexual feelings for a man. I didn't know I could have sexual feelings for_ anyone._ I always assumed I was an asexual. Maybe I should see a Doctor. Doctor... John will be a military doctor. STOP IT!_ No matter how hard he tried he could not get John out of his head. Maybe I should talk to Mycroft, seeming as he has that boyfriend from Scotland Yard... His thoughts wandered on until he was brought back to reality by Anderson sniggering beside him.

"Who are you thinking of Sherlock," he mocked cruelly, "what's his name, go on. Tell us."

"Leave me alone Anderson, or I'll tell Sarah of that interesting night you had last night," Sherlock remarked, pointing at the girl behind Anderson. "Or would she be mad at you for cheating on her with her best friend?" Sherlock snapped and returned to his work.

* * *

Throughout the day Sherlock bumped into John twice before fourth lesson (they had avoided each other at break), when they had biology together. They greeted cautiously as Sherlock had deduced throughout the day that they had broken up and had decided to be careful around his emotions. Despite that Sherlock was eager to bring the subject up, he left it and blanked John. He also decided throughout the day that his brother was right, emotions are a disadvantage and that it was in his, and John's, best interests if he kept his distance, both physically and emotionally. This was very difficult as he found out. John was hurting from a girlfriend he didn't even like and Sherlock just want to pick him up and tell him it would be ok, even though that was very unlike him.

"Urm, Sherlock? I need to ask you something." John eventually said; a million bad thoughts rushed through Sherlock's head, but he remained steady, replying "ok."

"Irene said," Sherlock gave a deep internally exhale, "that you told her I was bored of her. I don't know whether to be grateful or angry. But thanks anyway."

"Ok John, return to your work now please." John, looking hurt, sulked back into his questions. _I want to tell him, but its a disadvantage. Maybe later._

* * *

In dorm 221Boys, at approximately 6:32pm from Sherlocks calculations, Mycroft emailed yet another case to his little brother.

_ 'Hello Sherlock._

_ My connections at Scotland Yard _(Sherlock sniggered at this remark)_ are in need of your assistance. Again, you will be kept out of the loop as far as the other police officers know. This is to be kept strictly between the two of us._

_This is the case -_

_ A man; 6.3 foot in height, 47, white, gay, lived in a bungalow and had a partner (also male.) ; was murdered around the 29th of July. The police found his body only last week, and due to the several months post mortem of decomposing there was no evidence. Linked into this email are the statements from everyone who is a suspect, also pictures of the body and the surroundings._

_Please reply with an answer by 6pm tomorrow night._

_Regards_

_ Mycroft Holmes'_

As Sherlock was flicking through the case files and the explicit photos of the man, naked with his left side carved, almost professionally, John wandered into the dorm and almost screamed in the sight of the photos, alarming Sherlock.

"Sh-Sh-Sherlock?" John stuttered in shock. "Is that... Is he dead?" He corrected himself quickly.

"Good deduction John." Sherlock mocked, "maybe you could be of use here. You see this far from the pelvis to the bottom rib, how deadly would you rate them. Out of 10, so to speak."

"About a ni- wait a moment. That's a police document, Sherlock! I can't believe you would- I can't -" He stammered, not being able to breathe through the distress and horror in his voice.

"Yes John. It is from Scotland Yard. I am _allowed_ to do this, but if anyone found out you saw these, you may be assassinated in your sleep, so do get over yourself and spit it out." Sherlock demanded.

"Fine." He spat through clenched teeth, forcing himself to look at the ghastly photos again. "Not very deadly... That amount of blood couldn't have come from that single cut. Are there anymore cuts? He couldn't have died from just that. A blow to the head to cause a concussion and then maybe that cut would have killed him. It's hard to say. So why ARE you doing this, Sherlock?" John quizzed.

"For my idiotic brother, who works with the government. He has a "connection" with the police force who need my assistance. This isn't the first time. And, the "connection" is my brother's secret boyfriend, Greg Lestrade. A completely oblivious man." John looked shocked at this information, "what? Does my brother being 'gay' hurt you in anyway? I don't see why it should, but_ you ordinary people are strange_. Other than that, good deduction, thank you John." John tried to stammer a few words out but he was still in shock. _Had Sherlock just accused me of being homophobic? I'd love to tell him I'm Questioning. That'll shock him_. John thought to himself in anger.

"No, no I am not homophobic," John said, biting his tongue, he couldn't admit to Sherlock that he was the reason he was Questioning. "And that makes sense. Does my help, help?" He asked sheepishly.

"Yes. Thank you John. I can do the rest now. The answer is fairly obvious. The police are stupid anyway. Please, carry on."

As a few hours droned on with Sherlock typing manically and John scribbling in his notebook, John grew tired and decided to head to the shower. Sherlock nodded good night and carried on writing, only turning his head slightly to watch John walk into the bathroom. His head screamed to be noticed but he pushed the thoughts about John towards his Mind Palace again and carried on. When John fell into his light sleep, after showering, turning his music off and getting changed in front of Sherlock, Sherlock was fascinated by his breathing patterns. Long intake, deep outtake. Sherlock made sure to making a mental note of this before going into his phase of sleep, which included half zoning out, half being asleep. Sherlock's loud and rambunctious head never allowed him to sleep.

* * *

**AN. So I guess by now, you have realised I am not good at endings, so if you could leave tips and prompts for the story continuum and the endings. Hopefully, some Johnlock may be here soon, and the plots about to kick in soon too:D Thank you for reading so far! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**HELLO MY LOVELIES! How are y'all? Anyway, this is the next chapter, hope you enjoy. Sorry its not as big as the last one, the next one is much bigger and should be up soon ^.^ sorry it s taken a while to upload, I've been on crutches and thus I have not been able to write, due to hospital meetings and school. ALSO there's a lot of Sherlocks mind in here, I hope its not too confusing. Read on :3**

* * *

In chemistry, the next day, John decided to sit next to Sherlock, who had reluctantly accepted. Sherlock had tried to keep his distance from the shorter man, however, since the case, John had wanted to spend almost every waking moment with him. Sherlock put this down to loneliness. _Who would want to be with me voluntarily?_ Sherlock quizzed himself. _I should see that Doctor now. This isn't normal. What do I do? Mycroft? No. Do I talk to John about these emotions? No._ Sherlock was stuck for words as the man sat next to him in chemistry. The room was filled with light from the giant window behind them, so the two men's faces were shadowed as they eyed each other.

"Hello." John coughed when he strode next to the seat adjacent to Sherlock's. He had caught a cold in the British autumn weather. Sherlock nodded in return. For the first time since his fathers death, he was stuck for words. The man took Sherlock's breath away. _Has he observed this? I am yet to know the boundaries of John's intellect yet. He is the only person I have never been able to deduce fully. How peculiar..._ Sherlock's thoughts rambled on as John eyed him more cautiously. In the two weeks he had known the man, he had only seen him like this once, when he was trying to figure out a case he was troubled about. _The Great Sherlock Holmes, stuck._ John giggled to himself. "So are you going to talk? Or are you going to be all hush hush. Plus," he said pointing at the worksheets displayed before them, "you're falling behind."

"Oh, yes. I have been rather troubled of the late, thank you John." Sherlock mumbled under his breath. Looking down at his work on 'Molecules within metals', Sherlock deemed this as mediocre work.

"Urm. Ok. Troubled? You?" John's voice filled with worry. "What's wrong Sherlock? Can I help?"

"No, and I especially don't want help from _you_." Sherlock spat. "Now, continue with this work John. _You're falling behind._" He mocked. He blew a lock of hair out of his eyes and continued his unreadable scribbling as John sat there in shock. _Excuse me. What do you mean by 'especially not me'? That's awfully 'college drama' of you Sherlock_, John smirked to himself. Discarding this rudeness, John continued with his work, sitting a little further away from the other man.

Half an hour into their third lesson, the two men sat stiffly beside each other with images of the next day and a half ahead of them. For Sherlock it was thoughts of pure dread. T_he rest of today and tomorrow with him. I had avoided him up to this lesson the best I could, but now I am tutoring him. What if I cannot control my thoughts? God. I want my razor back. Urgh. Not now, please. It's been months since I have. Four months ago. I'll tutor him later. His thoughts became urgent. I need to speak to someone. John? No, that would allow us to grow closer._ Sherlocks thoughts carried on frantically. Whereas, John's thoughts were of a different detail. _What if I have angered him with my moaning. I just need a friend. I can't lose him. All my other 'friends' have left me. Both men were weary of each others presence._ John finally broke the silence, "do you have a problem with me Sherlock?" He whispered, almost urgently. _I can't lose this one._

"What? No. Just- Just do your work, John. I'll tutor you later." Sherlock stated before he walked over to the teacher, discussed something, John couldn't hear and left 20 minutes early.

John carried on his lesson sitting alone at the back, alone with his thoughts. He was disturbed from his work on molecules by a text from Irene.

_ "I miss you. Meet tonight? I have some new underwear ;)"_

* * *

John left the classroom furious and stormed to Irenes room, ignoring the fact that Sherlock was meant to be tutoring him as we speak.

"Oh goody, you came." Irene whispered as John stood at her door.

"No Irene. What is this?!" He shoved the text into her face in fury. "This is not funny. We have broken up. We are no longer together and you want me to have sex with me? What? Oh don't start crying now." He spat.

"I miss you John. Don't you miss me?" She said through her tears. The room had changed since they broke up, more colourful and the beds messed up, John noted to himself silently. John shook his head in response. _Did this really mean so much to her? No, you are free. Just leave._ John thought, meaning to leave but his legs were paralyzed.

"What? No. Stop this. Ok? We. Are. Over." He stressed every last word in detail before turning on his heel and dismissing himself. He walked around aimlessly for a while before returning to his room.

* * *

"Sherlock?" A voice crept from the door of 221Boys, 19 minutes after period four started. Walking into his room, he saw Sherlock sprawled across John's bed surrounded by books. "That's my bed." He started to protest with a little tear creeping up in his eye.

"John, you're sad. What's the matter?"

"That's very unlike you, Sherlock. Starting to care for me?" John winked. _Did he just wink at me?_ Sherlock mind was racing. "Come on then, teach me what I should know." As they started their work, Sherlock could have sworn, John sat so laid so close to him that he could feel John's eyes over his own body. _Still Questioning_. Sherlock thought in hope.

"What what has been going on today? You've been acting horrid to me." John asked sheepishly.

"That's just me. If you are interested in trivia go to that Anderson you are so fond of." Sherlock grumbled. "Now what is this answer?" As John concentrated, Sherlock found himself fascinated in the miniscule wrinkles on Johns forehead, and his soft lips. The hours droned on as Sherlock taught and John listened. Promptly at 6.12pm John left for dinner, with the promise of a bread roll for Sherlock. Sherlock's mind started racing again. The man was truly wonderful in his eyes. He decided to go shower, after discovering that he was showing symptoms of love; sweating, dilated pupils, heart racing.

* * *

In the evening, John had slipped into bed in his favourite pyjamas. He had gotten no answer to Sherlocks unforgivable behaviour and tried to forget it. However, John's family been known to hold grudges for years. _Maybe I got this gene_, John thought to himself. He turned around, away from Sherlock who had busied himself in yet another case. As his breathing slowed, and he was just from sleep, he heard the words from behind him;

'I'm sorry for how I have been acting. Its because I have unusual emotions for you and I am scared. _I think I love you."_

* * *

**_Sorry, one last thing. _Sorry for that ending. MWAHAHHAHAH. I like writing fluff and it shall continue from the next chapter. The plots just filling in now. You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE ;) Anyway, don't forget to review! Love ya**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Please note that this is set one month later. MWAHAHAHAHAHAH**

**Also may contain spoilers for the finale of Doctor Who season 7 (The Name Of The Doctor), so I am sorry if I ruin one of the BEST episodes ever... **

**This chapter is all flufffy and yeah, I hope you enjoy. Please remember to review with suggestions:3 love you all**

* * *

There was utter horror in the halls. One student fainted. Another vomited, causing a chain reaction of fifteen other students vomiting. About 46% of the school was crying. The professors failed miserably at keeping the students in their dorms. "Comon, inside now," the professors piped up, ushering the worried students into the correct dorms, but the students wouldn't reside. The corridors became plagued with tears and screams as even more people found out. Rumours had started. The most believable was suicide, but she seemed happy (in John's perspective, _but, then again, you never know what happens behind closed doors.._ Johns mind wandered). And the most obscure of all the rumours that had developed so far was that her ex boyfriend became jealous of a new lover of hers (no one knew of the identity) and killed her in her sleep.

"The body was found at 5.30 am today. She had some marks on her wrists, the pre-mortem indentation of rope of some sort. The same was on her ankles. I couldn't see the rest. We can look again later. Oh, and she seemed to have a bullet through the head." Sherlock stated to John under his breath before waltzing back into their room. Everyone was in shock. A girl, only 17 years of age, named Lavender Pulash, was found dead in her dormitory that same morning. John had only met her once or twice but she seemed nice enough. As the students merged back into their rooms, mourning, an eerie silence spread through the school. As it was a saturday, classes were dismissed to allow the shocked students to mourn. John, who barely knew the woman, went to console the victims friends and one sister who was in hysterics.

"I am so sorry." John said deeply to the girl, patting her on the back. "Here's my number, and my dormitory room. I am John Watson and I will answer any time. Just drop by if you want to talk." John said, offering a piece of paper. The older girl declined quietly and nodded her head to the door, asking John to leave.

"Wait, John, is it? There's a lot of weird rumours going round," the girl started, bubbling through streams of tears, "please can you try to stop them? I don't know what happened but it wasn't suicid-" she broke into tears hysterically as her friend hugged her close.

"Yes," nodding, "yes I will try." He replied, clearing his throat. _I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry_. "I am at 221Boys if you ever need me." As he left silently, a blonde, attractive girl, grabbed his arm.

"I'll take that number if you want," she winked. _Isn't this a bit inappropriate?_ John thought to himself. "I'll call you sometime." She left to return to her friend after snatching the piece of paper out of Johns hands.

When John was making the lengthy trek back to his dorm, his mind flickered back to the events of a month ago to the date. He still hadn't approached Sherlock about the event, but as he thought of it, his heart fluttered. In the past month, John's mind has been all over the place, trying to figure out his emotions for the taller man. He tried to hide his flushed face when Sherlock read his blog (_The blog of -the want to be -Dr. John. H. Watson_) or when Sherlock moved that important inch closer to him on his bed, allowing him to smell his musky scent. The only problem, in John's eyes, was that he was not gay. He has declined this all his life, he is straight. He also has the belief that you cannot be gay for one person. In conclusion, John had labelled himself (privately) as bisexual. He still tries to decline it though. _I kind of like Sherlock as more a friend, but does he still like me? Or is this just being stupid? It's probably stupid. Maybe its just a friend crush, like when you feel really close to a friend. But I wouldn't mind seeing him naked... I can't believe Sherlock Holmes has 'emotions' for me. Or had._ He started to believe that Sherlock had moved on in the past month, because he has not made any further move on John. Or was this just because he's Sherlock Holmes? John's mind was racing. He wanted to approach Sherlock about this in the past month but he has had no window of opportunity. And today was _definitely_ the wrong day.

* * *

Once the endless journey was over, through the high ceilinged halls and past the numerous deserted classrooms, John slowly entered his dorm. Sherlock was sitting in his chair reading an email with was delivered sooner than expected.

_"Dearest brother,_

_I have heard about the murder in your school. I would like to remind you that emotions are not an advantage, dear brother, in the case if you were close to this woman._

_If you are wondering about how I found out so early, and I suspect you are, I got the news from a Greg Lestrade from Scotland Yard. You are most likely aware of my relationship with him and I would much prefer it if you kept this a secret from our parents. I am not interested in your love life, so do not run to me crying if John breaks you heart._

_I am appointing this murder to you, and you shall send daily updates of what you have found._

_Scotland Yard needs you, dear brother._

_Mycroft Holmes,_

_English Parliament._

"Sherlock? Can I read this? I mean, I can read the others, why not this one?" John quizzed Sherlock as he hide his laptop, for the first time in a long time.

"Oh, right, yes you can. Just remember that my brother has an unusual sense of humour." Sherlock warned. He still has feelings for John, and he doesn't want the smaller man to discover this via his brother. He has been worrying about John a lot recently, _what if the murder gets him? What if he doesn't like me back?_ A million questions bussed through Sherlock's mind as he tried to return to his work. Sherlock was scanning through the fresh case files of the dead woman as John realised Sherlock still had feelings for him, his heart did a backflip.

"Can I help you?" John asked, leaning close to the other man, hoping he'd take the hint.

"I'm going to the body in an hour after this, would you like to assist?" Sherlock stated, ignoring John's gesture.

"I don't think I can do that. I'll hang back here, if you don't mind. I have a term essay to complete and this whole thing has taken me over my head. Sorry." Sherlock nodded and returned to his papers, looking at John sideways for a moment, taking in his new defined muscles in his biceps.

* * *

As if on cue, exactly an hour later, Sherlock left, leaving John to his essay. Once Sherlock was out of earshot, he threw the term paper across the room, missing his desk by 5 inches, and turned the next episode of_ Doctor Who_ on, _The Name Of The Doctor_. As the Whisper Men appeared on the screen, John's mind returned to Sherlock. _His brother said "so do not run to me crying if John breaks you heart." Does this mean that Sherlock still has feelings for me? It would be amazing if we could have one hot, steamy night of just sex_. Johns mind racing as he paused the episode and jumped into a cold shower to rid his rather embarrassing erection. Once he had stepped out, ashamed, he returned to the TV and focused all attention on that, screaming when River Song appeared, crying (to John's disgust) when they kissed, and screaming in angst when it announced, '_Introducing JOHN HURT as THE DOCTOR'._

* * *

When Sherlock arrived at the room of which the body was at, he got stopped by Mrs. Hudson, telling him to turn around.

"But, I am here on official government business Mrs Hudson, go have a cup of tea, I can have it from here." He smiled at the small, older lady. He had been on good terms with Mrs. Hudson as his mother knew her sister and they had become good acquaintances over the years. "Talk to Mycroft, he'll fill you in, here's his email," he said in a soft, un-Sherlock-like tone, passing a piece of paper over. She nodded and waddled off to the room next to the crime scene. As Sherlock trod carefully around an unusual, out of place blood splatter, he started noting to himself. _That is the criminals blood, but the police are too dumb to figure that out. The way the girl is laid out on the bed, indicates she was raped, he checked her palms, finger nail marks, showing distressed before she was killed by a single bullet from the left cervelet to the lobe frontal of the brain. Rope markings on wrists and feet, also indicting rape or some sort of distress. No finger prints,_ he thought, recalling his notes, _or hair or clothing samples. He studied the body, limp to one side, barely dressed in a bra and revealing shorts, wrong for this time of year, with a hole through the head, blood pooled on the white pillow. The bloodshot is point blank range, she was expecting a visitor from the unusually clean room._

"Ahem." Sherlock whizzed around looking at the tall, grey hair man. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?!" He stammered. His police uniform is freshly ironed, first call out, Sherlock noted. Pulling out a badge the man said, "Greg Lestrade, Scotland Yard. _Who. Are. You_?" Lestrade demanded. Sherlock sniggered.

"Ahh, yes. _You know my brother_." He offered the man a handshake, but was declined. "Holmes, Sherlock. You know Mycroft right? He sent me here." Sherlock recalled his hand.

"Ok. Well, get out." He pointed to the door. "Your service is not needed here anymore. Anyway, I thought you would have been older.. The way your brother describes you..." He carried on but Sherlock had already left.

* * *

After dinner, John returned back from the eerily silent cafeteria, to Sherlock staring at him constantly. He took the email seriously. _He may know I like him. He is now bisexual. I can't tell who he has feelings for, but he does for someone. I wish I knew. I want him._ Sherlock's mind became filled with emotions and thoughts that he didn't think he could ever have.

"Um, Sherlock?" John started to get worried by the silence of the usually rambling man. Sherlock sat in silence as John moved onto his bed, continually eyeing him. "Ok, this is too awkward now. What is it?" John demanded. After leaving it a few seconds he huffed a "fine" and began reading '_A Song Of Ice And Fire: A Game Of Thrones'._

"You read that email earlier. What did you deduce?" Sherlock quizzed under his breath.

"I don't know Sherlock. My mind has been all over the place since last month." John tried to take the words back but they escaped before he was able to pull them back in. _Dammit. It's now or never John_, he told to himself. "A month ago you said, and I am quoting now Sherlock, '_I'm sorry for how I have been acting. Its because I have unusual emotions for you and I am scared. I think I love you."_ What does that mean? Do you still feel like this? I kinda like you too..." John pronounced the words slowly, throwing the book across the bed.

"I am lost for words John." Sherlock said dreamily before snapping back into_ 'Sherlock mode_'. "Yes, I have feelings for you, ones I cannot understand. But you cannot possibly be with me. You will be in danger. I hurt the ones I love."

"I don't care Sherlock. And you can be as factual as you like, it will not take away the fact that I," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his flushed cheeks, _He said 'love'!_ "I really like you, and I think that we should give this a shot. But, if you don't think that..."

"No. I never said that we shouldn't," Sherlock shuffled his chair closer to John's bed, lowering his voice," I just don't want to hurt you."

"And you won't. Just," John broke off, stood up and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N PLEASE NOTE THAT THE DATE IS MADE OF EXTRACTS FROM MY OTHER FANFICTION (A ONE OFF) I EDITED IT FOR THE USE OF THIS STORY. HERE IS THE LINK FOR THE ORIGINAL. Thank you**

** s/8951539/1/Sherlock-and-John-s-First-Date**

**O.A.N - Hello readers ^^ thank you for reading so far. In this chapter there is a lot of fluff and kissy wissys;) however, there is quite a bit of self harm in this. Please realise that this is fictional but people actually self harm. if you are struggling with matters like these please feel free to PM or use my Tumblr ( .com) as I have experience with these via myself and friends. I'm here for you!:) now, please read on:) **

**O.A.N. Sorry I forgot something! This chapter has homophobia in it-.- it mad me angry writing it, so sorry if it affects you... Carry on..**

* * *

Typing away, Sherlock's brain buzzed and was highly alert. His mind worked on the case and wondered about the night before. He resided his temptations to ponder his mind on John and focus on the murder. He had been engaged with it tirelessly since the night before. It had been 7 hours since John had taken himself to bed, and Sherlock started to smell himself, not pleasant. Just before his laptop buzzed and exerted a small popping noise. Opening the lid once more, Sherlock sighed in anguish. He had nothing to report to his brother, _what will he think of me?_

_ "Dearest brother,_

_I am yet to hear your report of the murder. I have attached the postmortem and some professional, LEGAL, images of the body to this email. Please note, do not share these with anyone you associate with. I will communicate with you over this when you are willing to give any evidence or any accusations. I have expressed your involvement with Scotland Yard and they are willing to have you on the team. However, I will not have my name shown up by you throwing a tantrum. Get this solved._

_I have another stressing matter to press you with. Your little stunt yesterday. I am not amused and neither is Scotland Yard or Mother. I am sure this won't happen again._

_ Mycroft Holmes,_

_English Parliament."_

As Sherlock read, his stomach dropped, he had nothing to tell his brother. And now Scotland Yard knows too. Sherlock had always been very good performing under pressure, but with no lead? This was new. Sherlock's eyes started to stray to the sleeping man beside him. Perfect, in Sherlock's eyes, even in sleep. He had never felt this way before, and its scared him. His mind wandered, _my scars. What if he sees my scars? Yet, why would he see me naked? Oh my god. What if he wants to have sex? I have never been with a girl, let alone a boy..._ Sherlock had returned to study the freshly printed, graphic photos when Johns eyes fluttered open. Without disturbing the man, he silently got changed for the day, proud of his skills to stay undetected from the Great Sherlock Holmes.

"Hello," he said hoarsely, kissing Sherlock on the cheek before he had time to respond. _Closer to my mouth than last time_, Sherlock noted silently to himself. Sherlock placed the photos delicately onto the table before opening his mouth to talk.

"So, how are you this morning? With the death and all?" Sherlock asked worriedly.

"I am surprised by you, Sherlock. _People may say we are in love_," he winked, quoting one of his favourite films_ 'The Silence Of The Lambs'._ "But, yes, I am alright, thanks. You stink, you know that right? You need to get showered and ready for today. You're taking me out. I think you need a day off this case, you'll go insane," John told the taller man.

"Ok, right. Now, how will this relationship work? Did you want to make it official or-" John broke him off by kissing him on the lips softly.

"Not now Sherlock, get showered. I'm off to breakfast."

* * *

Sherlock emerges from the shower fully dressed 5 minutes before John had returned. His legs stung from his fresh scars, which he cut during that month, because he thought he was faulty. His trousers were making the matters worse, because they were rubbing against the affected area, causing him to limp a bit. Once Sherlock had spotted John, he stood up straight and began deducing. _He had the cereal again, but not much. And an apple. His mother is worried about his weight so he is forcing himself to eat more, he noted, new jumper for today, new trousers, tighter around his arse and thighs.. Rather delightful actually... He is anxious about something. Maybe telling his parents that he is gay or bisexual, whichever he is most comfortable. I don't know._ John threw his arms around his neck and kissed Sherlock, opening his mouth slightly. To John's dismay, he did not get the gesture and decided to leave it; still hugging him tightly around the stomach, John asked leaning back, "So where are we off too?"

"I was thinking of a nice Italian restaurant and then a walk around London. No cases this time either," the man promised into John's neck, masking his pain.

"Perfect." John broke off and dragged them playfully to his bed and lay down cuddling each other. "So, how many girls have you kissed before me?" He joked, noting Sherlock's skilled lips.

"None. I have had no relationships prior to this one," Sherlock mumbled, rearranging John on top of him. John, shocked by this accusation, just mumbled an _'ok_' and dug his neck into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock, who had normally frowned upon this form of affection, felt his heart leap but tried to ignore it. "So, want to work on this case?" He said to fill the growing silence.

"Sure," John agreed half heartedly before deciding to let the man have his personal space back. Sherlock retrieved the photos, but John just sat on the bed in protest.

"What?" Sherlock voiced in confusion. John just looked at him, he reminded himself of his sister during puberty so decided to snap out of it.

"I just want to do couple things, ok? The whole school is mourning. I am mourning. I just want a hug from my boyfriend." He sulked.

"Ok. Right." Sherlock stuttered on his words. "Boyfriend?" He winked, sitting next to the man. T_his is so unlike you, Sherlock. What's wrong?_ John was meant to say but only stuttered.

"Yes, boyfriend." Before kissing him, forcing his tongue through Sherlocks teeth flirtatiously. Sherlock pulled away shocked. "What? Did I do something wrong?" Sherlock shook his head and pinched his thighs, causing spikes of pain shoot up his legs. He did this when ever he was nervous or scared. No one noticed and it calmed him down.

"It's just that... I have never..." He started.

"What kissed someone? That's fine Sherly... Is it ok if I call you that? It's cute," John said trying to remain manliness, but gave up and started fiddling with a lock of Sherlock's hair behind his ear. A trick he has used on girls before. It worked. Sherlock's hand moved up to John's and he nuzzled his face into it. _Maybe he has never had anyone love him?_ A wave of guilt and realisation flooded John. "Sherlock, has anyone loved you before? What is your mum like? I remember you said your dad passed when you were 7 years old. You don't have too. I just feel like you haven't had affection before."

"My mother is horrid. She admitting to only keeping me because I proved to be a _child 'prodigy'_ but brothers no worse. Anyway, not now." Sherlock replied, looking up and removing his hand from his open cuts, now bleeding slightly through the trousers. No one has ever noticed this before though. John nodded and returned to lying down, Sherlock joined him.

* * *

A few hours later, Sherlock woke John up who had fallen asleep on his chest. Sherlock decided it was the right thing to do was to let him sleep. "Common, you have thirty minutes until we leave. I'll give you privacy and shall be in the toilet." When John looked down on his bare chest whilst changing, the light exposed my scar that cut across his chest. He got a sudden flashback to the sudden impact, the flash of light, his baby sister screaming. He fell to the floor in tears and started screaming on the top of his lungs: "**_Mum! Where's mum! My chest! My leg!"_**

Sherlock came rushing into their room, saw John curled up on the floor screaming. He lied down next to John, cocooning him in his own body. Straight away, John fell back into reality but didn't want to get back up. If he did so John would have seen his chest again and Sherlock would think he was weak. _I haven't had a flashback for years. This nightmares stopped last year_. Sherlock pulled a grey, woollen sweater over John and continued to hug his boyfriend, forever whispering, "Its ok, John. Listen to me! You're in our bedroom, in London." Then he added, "And your handsome boyfriend is here to protect you." John laughed slightly at this. _He is so vain and it was one of the first times he described himself as a boyfriend._ "Are you sure you still want to go out tonight? I can get Mrs Hudson to get some pizzas and drinks."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine now." Then he stood up, still shaking, and kissed Sherlock's forehead confidently. He looked at John worryingly before asking what happened.

"When I was little I was in a car crash. Only a minor one. No one died- no disrespect." He added quickly, realising what was being said. "I was haunted by it through my childhood. I must have only been four. I can only remember a bright light, sudden impact and my baby sister crying. I was so scared. But I lived. I had flashbacks all the way through childhood. It's how I learnt to be strong about things. I don't know what triggered this. I am so sorry, Sherlock." He said, kissing the taller man on the forehead. Getting up, John picked out a pair of black trousers, put them on. _This jumper that Sherlock had put around me, it has a pattern on it that brings out my half muscular chest_. He thought happily to himself.

About 10 minutes later Sherlock reemerged from the bathroom, wearing a tight purple shirt, which revealed his chest magnificently, tight grey trousers, exposing his perfect arse and very shiny black shoes. He took John's hands, looked into his eyes deeply and asked if he was ok now. John nodded and walked out of the dormitory with him, remembering to let go of his hand to avoid too many rumors flying around. It wasn't that John was ashamed, he just didn't think he could cope with the taunting from the other students yet.

Sherlock expertly hailed a black cab and in the back, Sherlock wouldn't stop looking at John. _Was he worried that I was going to have another breakdown? Does he think I am weak? Does he still like me?_ When Sherlock realised he had caught him staring he looked out of the window and put his hand in-between the two, in the middle school style. John took his hand happily and his face lit up immediately. Outside, the lights of London lit up the black, night sky which was pinpricked with stars. They rushed past the busy streets, conversing about what they would to do on the next date. It seemed so natural to keep the future alive for John. _Oh my gosh, a SECOND date?_ Johns inner fan_guy _was showing.

* * *

The cab pulled to a stop outside a Victorian building, with white walls which were highlighted with spot lights; there were pot plants placed around the grand entrance which leads into the waiting room. They joined arms and were greeted by a young woman who gave them excellent seats by the window, which offered them an excellent view of the Thames and London Eye. When Sherlock and John received their menus and a young lady came over to our table. Sherlock couldn't resist. _Dyed hair, cheap makeup and push bra. Obviously has a boyfriend who doesn't think she is good enough or so is trying to woo that young lad by the counter. Mother and Father disapproved of job, only child, has the need to overspend her money on tatty clothing. Has obsession with the podcast, Welcome To Night Vale, due to the half rubbed out drawing of the 'eye' on her right arm. She is left handed. She hates her job and is not old enough to be working here. She slept with the manager._ Sherlock eyes never looked away from the young girl whose tag bore the name '_STACEY_' on it in a disgusting shade of green.

"Hello sirs, may I take your order?" She asked politely, through Sherlock's stares. John realised what was happening and shot Sherlock a stern look, shaking his head slightly.

"Yes, I'll have spaghetti please, and Sherlock?" John said, after apologising for Sherlocks rudeness.

"I'm not hungry, I'll eat some of yours, thanks." He replied ignoring the girl. After she dismissed herself, John spoke up under his breathe: "You can't treat people like that, ok? Just be civil, at least. For me?" John had learnt that with Sherlock you cannot persuade him to eat if he didn't want to, so he decided not to argue on their first date. As the food arrived, John thanked the woman and started to eat slowly. John's eyes scanned the blood red sauce with the extremely pale pasta. He realised he hadn't eaten all day and began to pick up the pace of eating. Sherlock, who had now moved to sit next to him, stole a piece of bread and started picking at it. Sherlock's eyes locked onto Johns mouth which was licking a spoon playfully. Maybe he looked too long because John saw him and winked teasingly, carrying on. Sherlock's faced turned red as he felt his blood rush to his groin. He crossed his legs and tried to think of other things.

"Sorry, saw something you liked?" John teased. Sherlock just hissed ruefully back and nibbled on his bread some more. A red bus flew past, causing a note to fly to the window. Sherlock, intrigued, and _"as this isn't under usual circumstances"_ ran outside and pocketed it, before returning to the opposite side of the table. Luckily for him, his boner resided so there wasn't too much embarrassment. "Not too shabby, huh?" John started to fill the silence. "Sherlock, that couple over there is staring at us." John whispers into Sherlock's ear worried.

"Do you have a problem?" Sherlock asked the couple in his usual manner, flat with a hint of disgust. John felt his cheeks brighten, _he had to be rude, didn't he?_

"Sorry, I didn't think that's very appropriate that you or your kind should be allowed to do that in public." The man said with a matter-of-fact tone. Do what? _We're eating dinner. We have only touched once and that was hand to hand, passing bread!_ John thought in anger. Sherlock sensed the anger rise in John and spoke over him.

"Excuse me?" John butted in with anger ever growing inside him.

"What have we done wrong, kind sir?" Sherlock overspoke in a very deep and controlling voice.

"You're sick. Both of you. When will you learn that being gay is a sin and God is against it?" His date replied. Before John could control himself he was standing up threateningly. How dare she talk to us this way!

"Come on then, _Gay Boy_." The man said standing up too, only reaching to Johns shoulders, and John was small. However, what the man lacked in height, he gained in muscle tone. Sherlock grabbed John's arm and said, "In your Bible it says, '_Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him_.' _John 3:15._ Look it up. Come on John, I think it's time to leave." Sherlock shot a dirty look to the man and woman who sat their with their mouths wide open.

"_"You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination."_ The Holy Bible also teaches, _Lev 18:22_. You look it up." The man spat in a feeble attempt of a comeback. They ignores this walked over to the bar, paid and left with the remaining dignity we had left intact.

"We won't be going there again." John mumbled angrily. In the back of another cab, Sherlock was still attempting to calm John down.

"Wasn't the best first date, was it?" He said as he moved closer to John. As Sherlock put his hand on the other man's thigh, kissed him slowly. But John suddenly broke off, and gave him a look, as if to say '_to be continued.'_

* * *

The got off the cab a few blocks from the university, and decided to walk around for a while. Dipping in and out of back streets, Sherlock claimed to know the entire plan of London. He proved to be wrong when they got lost at 7 o'clock. The night sky, full in its winter glory, blew horrendous winds at the men. Sherlock, observing John was shaking, took his long coat off and put it over his shoulders. That's the right thing to do, right? He quizzed himself. "I am so sorry we got lost. They inserted a new road a few turns back. This is very unlike me." Sherlock said, hanging his head in shame.

"No, no, no." John protested. He pulled Sherlock in for a kiss by the shirt and made it linger. "It's this way anyway now. We are back from where we started. You're starting to lose your abilities, Sherlock" John teased. Sherlock, hurt from this remark, started to pinch, subconsciously, at his cuts again. Only to stop when they returned to the front door. They had no plan of sneaking into their dormitory. They walked, hand in hand (despite the weird looks and the snickering of Anderson) to their room, John still wearing Sherlock's coat. Shamelessly, Sherlock crushed John against their wall, whilst kissing him confidently for the first time. John gave Sherlock the keys, when Sherlock opened the door, John backed into the room, slamming the door behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome to chapter nine. In this chapter there is smut and self harm mentions. I did not write the smut, the credits are below. I hope you enjoy :3 Oh, and please don't forget to review, leave suggestions and so on. LOVE YA ALL3**

**Smut credit-**

**Tumblr: .com**

**FanFiction: Fangirlism-is-cool**

* * *

As soon as the door was shut, John pushed Sherlock against the wall, pinning his arms above his head in one of his hands, while the other grabbed Sherlocks hip and pulled him close. Sherlock moaned into John's mouth, which swiftly turned into a whimper as John shamelessly rutted against the rapidly growing bulge in his trousers. Against his will, Sherlock's hips thrust forward, rewarding him with a very throaty groan from John. Without breaking contact, John levered the taller boy away from the wall and twisted around so he was walking him backwards towards the bed. When Sherlock's knees hit the end of the bed, John pushed gently so that Sherlock fell with a soft flump on to the mattress. Sherlock wiggled back towards the headboard and John quickly straddled his lap, their equally hard erections rubbing through the fabric of their jeans. Delving once more into Sherlock's mouth, he used his hands to begin unbuttoning his jeans. Sherlock pulled away.

"John, I-"

"Shh" said John. "Please let me. Let me show you how much I care."

Wordlessly, Sherlock nodded and lifted his hips so John could remove his jeans. In one swoop, Sherlock's jeans and underwear were off and on the floor. Sherlock instinctively pulled his knees up to his chest, ignoring the uncomfortableness of his erection.

"Sherlock?" asked John, instantly aware. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Sherlock merely shook his head.

"I can't John, I just can't" he whispered. Tears prickled his eyes and he brushed them away furiously. "There's something wrong with me. I know it, and if you know it, you'll leave me."

John placed his hand on Sherlock's glorious cheekbone and smiled softly at him.

"Hey" he said, pecking him on the lips. "There's nothing in the world that would make me leave you. Do you trust me?" Sherlock nodded. "Then trust that no matter what you show me, I will never go away. I don't think I could cope without you in my life now I've had a taste of what it's like with you in it." John leant in to kiss Sherlock again, a soft chaste kiss that he tried to pour all the unsaid promises into. Silently, Sherlock lowered his legs, his eyes wide with the fear of what John might do when he saw.

"Oh Sherlock…" whispered John. Tears pricked his eyes and he looked up at Sherlock. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I promise you, I will never let anything make you feel bad enough that you feel like you have to do this. I won't let it."

Leaning down, John kissed every scar from Sherlock's knee to his groin, then back down the other leg.

"I thought you would think me weak, or stupid."

"Never. You are so brave. Your scars are proof that you have fought battles and won. I love them, like I love you."

Sherlock whimpered and pulled John up by the lapels on his coat to kiss him. It was a desperate, needy kiss, full of the passion he couldn't have possibly expressed until this very moment. John wrenched his mouth away from Sherlock's and latched himself to his neck, sucking hard. Once he had approved that it would leave a nice red mark, John moved south, kissing, licking or biting every piece of exposed skin he found on the way.

"John" moaned Sherlock, his hips wriggling as he felt John's breath ghosting over his prick. Tentatively, John licked a stripe from base to tip and heard Sherlock cry out. Dipping his tongue into the slit at the head, John tasted the bitterness of precome, and swiftly dropped his lips over the head, engulfing Sherlock in wet, velvet heat. Sherlock whimpered again and thrust his hips up. John used one hand to steady Sherlock, and the other to grip the base of his cock, sliding his hand up and down in time with his head. Sherlock threw his head back, his hands gripping the covers next to him as he tried weakly not to thrust into John's mouth.

"Oh God, John" gasped Sherlock. "Please, I need- I need to come. Please"

John's response was to suck harder and move his hand from Sherlock's cock, to gently massage his balls. Sherlock cried out

"John I'm going to come, I-"

White hot pleasure erupted within Sherlock. His vision whitened and his back arched off the bed, his hands digging into the mattress so hard his knuckles went white. His lips cried out for John as he felt his release being spurted into his mouth.

John closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure as Sherlock convulsed in his mouth, shooting hot come straight down his throat. He swallowed as much as he could, and continued to suck, coaxing Sherlock through his orgasm. When John was sure he had finished, he pulled off with a wet pop and crawled up to lay next to Sherlock. Leaning over, John placed a deep kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"You are so beautiful, Sherlock" said John. "And I will tell you every day. I'll never tire of it."

Humming in contentment, Sherlock leaned into John's chest.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Don't worry about me" chuckled John. "You were so gorgeously hot, I came in my pants like a 13 year old about the same time as you did."

Sherlock frowned. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You can help me next time" winked John and Sherlock chuckled, snuggling closer into John's chest. They eventually fell asleep in each others arms, Sherlock included.

* * *

As they woke up, the pair stared at each other for a rather long time before they spoke a word.

"How are you this morning? Recovered?" John teased as he dressed Sherlock. He gingerly pulled his trousers up and around some of the brighter scars, making Sherlock whimper. John stuttered apologies as Sherlock pulled him in a deep, lasting kiss. Five minutes they spent lying on top of each other, kissing manically, thrusting hips, biting ears, until Sherlock noticed the note that had been slipped under their door. John giggled when Sherlock stood up, exposing his rather large erection. Shamelessly, the taller man walked to the door and picked up the letter, giving John a marvelous view of his arse.

_'Classes are postponed until wednesday. Remembrance assembly will be held for the late Lavender Pulash at midday today. Attendance is not mandatory, yet preferred.'_ Sherlock read aloud. "Are you going to go, John? I'm going to stay behind to work on the case again. I can't understand why I can't figure it out. The answer is just staring at me, I know it." He paced uneasily.

"Come 'ere," John said whilst wrapping his arms around the taller man. He left a trail of kisses up his neck, noting the goosebumps appearing after the action. "You can't know everything-"

"Yes. I know that. But I can try." Sherlock snapped, looking hurt. "I don't mean to snap, I'm just stressed. I can't figure this case out, and I think you are in danger. I can't lose you. I can't," his voice broke. John squeezed Sherlock, trying to stop tears emerging. It finally hit John that he is the only person who cares for Sherlock.

"My Sherly... Shh..." He tried to sooth the man. _This is really unlike him. I think he is at breaking point with this._

"I am ok John. Thank you." He coughed and turned his computer on. John sank into the shower as he was still in his come-filled-pants from last night which were rubbing uncomfortably.

* * *

An hour later, Sherlock kissed the blonde man goodbye as he sullenly walked to the main assembly hall alone. He had spent half the hour before trying to convince Sherlock to go with him, out of respect for the deceased and for support for John. Sherlock simply said he had more stressing matters to attend to, like his revision and the case, which he feels obliged to solve. John walked through the maze of corridors with the topless ceilings and watching paintings. _The eyes stare into the deepest crevices of your soul_, he thought. The halls were full of students walking around aimlessly, crying, or in extreme cases, sitting in their dorms, with their doors open staring at the passers by. Everyone looked like they hadn't slept since the occurrence, two days ago. Out of fear or out of grievance? As John Watson arrived at the hall, he noticed that the hall, usually filled with lights and energy, became gloomy and lifeless. Not even half the chairs were occupied as John sat himself at the side of the room. There had been rumors spreading like wildfire of students being dragged out of school in the middle of the night by their worried parents. This rumor gave new light to the empty chairs. Either they had left the school or they are too tired to come and join the remembrance assembly. John thought to himself. He couldn't help it, but he found this extremely rude. He can understand why the close friends of the girl hadn't turned up, but the people who hardly knew her were claiming to be in too much grief to even show their face.

"_AHEEMMM_." Professor Zuchken, the head of the year, coughed loudly over the mumbling. "Hello, and welcome. Two days ago, Lavender Pulash was found dead lying in her dormitory. You are here today to remember the life Lavender lead and was meant to lead. Feel free to leave at any time if you are uncomfortable with the photos or anything within this assembly." John moved uncomfortably in his chair. _I will not cry, I will not cry_, he found himself repeating as photos slid on show. Lavender was shown laughing, playing, kissing with many of her friends and ex's.

"She was so full of life, she will be missed so much. She never failed to make anyone laugh or smile. Unfortunately, her sister could not be here with us today, as she is still too upset. our thoughts go out to her family. She was an amazing best friend. I miss her so much" her best friend spoke, before erupting into tears. John felt so sorry for her. He couldn't imagine losing someone who was that close to him.

"Thank you, Ellen, for your kind words. You are very brave for doing that." Professor Zuchken took over. He clicked the slideshow back on, once she had sat back down. As the photos continued, showing her first to sixteenth birthday, John rustled around in his chair, not understand why he wasn't comfy. People were getting visibly annoyed with him, but left it. Almost everyone was in tears in the room. Most people had resorted to hugging the person closest to them, usually a boyfriend/girlfriend or just a close friend. This only made John worse as his thoughts went immediately to Sherlock. Teared up, he rubbed his eyes and returned to watching the slideshow.

"_Stop that_," someone cried at him from behind. He whispered an apology, stood up and he pulled out a note from under where his arse had been. So that's why.

_"You'll never guess who._

_See you both soon._

_Kisses, J. J"_


	10. Chapter 10

**HELLO! Sorry it has been such a looonngg time. I didn't forget about you, honest:') I'd love to hear about what you think about this chapter.. Its reasonably long.. And please remember in the smnut scene, that it is my first one and that I am lesbian:') so I have never actually seen ****_that _****in real life :')**

**WARNINGS:**

**Self harm scene**

**Homophobic stuff (a little)**

**SMUT**

* * *

_**"SHERLOCK!"**_John screamed as he ran through the deserted corridors. He barged through the door of 221Boys and fell over face first over a bundle of Johns jumpers. Sherlock, looking up in horror, to his_ boyfriend's_ hand. Before Sherlock could merely stutter a '_what?_' John shoved the note into his hand. John, whose hand was steady but breathing in awful tempo, shoved the note into Sherlock before pacing exactly twenty three times the length of the room. Uncharacteristically for Sherlock, his hands shook with fear as he read the note over and over to himself, muttering the words in silence. His worst fears had been confirmed, his John was in danger.

"I think you should leave the school." Sherlock said matter-of-factly. "You are in danger and I cannot let you be hurt." This was his way of saying he cared.

"What- What? Why?" John stuttered in reply.

"You, leaving tonight. "See you both soon" is a threat, John. You could get hurt. Now, stand aside, I need to do some screenings of this." Before he pulled out some liquid, a test tube and pliers.

"I can't leave you, I could get hurt away from you. _I love you Sherlock_. Why would I leave you? If I am here, I can help you and... Yeah," he winked and giggled at Sherlock before moving to the side. Sherlock nodding, knowing that he would never be able to persuade John to leave, he returned to cutting a sample of the letter, rubbing cotton buds on it and putting the sampling through multiple tests. They all turned out negative. No fingerprints, no DNA, no perfume, no nothing. This terrified Sherlock but he carried on conducting tests.

* * *

After fifteen drooling minutes of Sherlock intensely working and John watching him mutter to himself, Sherlock rose and went into to the toilets. John disregarding this action drew out a book and began reading. However, once John had finished the chapter he realised Sherlock hadn't reemerged. He got up and knocked on their bathroom door, "Sherly are you ok?" When he got no reply he gently pushed the door a little and it flew open. There, in the corner, Sherlock sat, trouserless, with a blade next to him. John shouted his name before he rushed over to get some wet tissue and sat next to him. "Sherly, Sherly, it's ok baby, it will be ok." He removed the blade and started dabbing at the blood running down the man's leg. Drously, Sherlock looked up, apparently he hadn't noticed John had come into the room and flung his arms around him and started crying into John's shoulders.

"I am sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He repeated constantly through the tears. John had finished ridding of the blood and rocked Sherlock slowly. He had stopped crying and grew instantly tired. _He's lost a lot of blood_, John thought to himself, looking at the bundle of reddened tissue in his hand.

"It's ok sweetheart, I am here, I love you." John said softly, "now, can you tell me why you did this to yourself?"

"It's just that... That," Sherlock said after a minutes consideration. His voice grew steadier and he returned to his normal frame of mind, in control and factual. "That you are in danger and all the tests are negative. There are no leads on this and I have to inform my brother on the recent turn of events. I am just extremely stressed. Excuse me," Sherlock replied before pulling his trousers up gingerly and fixing his shirt. He helped John up and lead him into their room, in which he sat John down on the bed and sat on the floor in front of him. "Now, I want you to listen John. The average human brain will just pick out the words that deem important and so forth. I want you to listen and understand." John nodded, a little offended by what was being said; however, due to what he just saw on Sherlock, he excused this. "People usually self-harm because they are struggling to get to terms with their life and stressful situations. I self-harm because I cannot cope with my 'gift'. It is not a gift, no matter how many times people say it is. Now this has come along and I can't solve this. Also, you are in danger. You say you love me, and I cannot feel the same things for you. It's complicated."

"I understand," John said whilst he pulled the man into a very caring kiss. "I do love you. Now, did you want to email your brother?" Sherlock nodded in return and turned his laptop on before perching on his chair like a large bird. It had been fifteen minutes and Sherlock was still tapping away at the computer, until John finally spoke up, "are you safe enough if I go for a walk around the school? I can stay here if you want me to..."

"It's ok John, you can leave. I won't cut again, I have no intention of doing so either." John nodded and left accordingly after two minutes.

* * *

John walked around they neverending corridors of the school, he noticed they had removed some of the framed drawings around school. Dotted strategically around the school were police officers from Scotland Yard, he continued walking until he got stopped by a man called Lestrade. "Hello, you're John Watson, correct?" John nodded in response, suddenly apprehensive, "I am Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard, I have been talking to Sherlock Holmes and his brother," John sniggered at this, knowing there was something between them. "I am pleased with the progress Mycroft, Sherlock's brother, has been making. But can you ask him, on behalf of Scotland Yard, to send some evidence over. We know he received a note from the killer yesterday, and we will have to arrest him for the the suppression of illegal documents and evidence from the court of justice. Good day." He walked off, leaving John in a pool of his own anger. _They have such nerve_, he thought angrily to himself as he carried on his trek around the school. As he approached the maths block, passing _M12,_ a distance voice yelled out at him.

"Hey, look it's Johnny boy!" He turned around to be meeted by an abnormally greasy Anderson, and an out of breath Sally. The sniggered at him as his face flared a deep shade of red. "We saw you run out of assembly yesterday. Were you crying or guilty?" Anderson mocked whilst pretending to wipe tears away.

"We also saw you and Sherlock the other day! What are you? Gay? That's so wrong, you should have chosen the way God expected you to be, straight." Sally spat. _The nerve of this delincuentes_, John ranged in his head.

"If you must know, me and Sherlock are together, I am bisexual or even gay - but I don't see how that's any of _your _business - and I am not guilty for the death of Lavender. However, I was feeling sad about it, because, _unlike you_, I am human." He spat at them, pronouncing each word sharply. It reminded himself of Sherlock. "Now, if you don't mind, I will be going-" The grabbed him by his arm and started pushing him around.

"_Gay boy, gay boy,_" Sally started singing in John's ear. John started to scream for help but Anderson punched him in the stomach to silence him. He clenched his fists and right hooked Anderson around his face.

"JOHN WATSON! YOU GET HERE NOW." Professor Zuchken yelled from the top of his voice. Sally and Anderson looks hurt and started to back away. "You two, here now." They all walked over to the older man and stood in front of him with his head hung. "Now, John, you will apologise to Anderson and Sally right now. This college has no room for bullying or violence."

"What?" John's voice rose in anger, he had only acted in self-defense. "I didn't do anything, they started it!"

"Silence!" The professor silenced him and pointed to the Head's office. John sulked off, leaving the couple behind him, laughing maniacally in his absence.

* * *

"Hello sir sorry for bothering you, this is John Watson, I caught him punching another student in the face. I thought it would be appropriate to bring him to you." The head of year said to the head professor, after sitting in the waiting room in silence for 10 minutes. John's mind continued racing, _what if they kicked me out of the school? Is Sherlock ok? I need to get back to him. I am really worried for his health right now._

"Ahh, yes. Hello John, please take a seat. Professor, you may leave." Zuchken left on his heel and John sat in front of the Head, worriedly. "Please tell me what happened." He asked, pulling out a pen and a notepad. _I am screwed._

"I was walking down the corridor when Anderson and Sally ran up to me and started mocking me. They made fun of mine and Sherlock Holmes's relationship and started to push me round. When I screamed for help, Anderson punched me in the stomach. This is when I acted in self defense and right hooked him. Maybe a bit too powerfully, sir." He said respectfully.

"I do not wish to be lied to. I will call the others in and find out what happened. Professor Zuchken said he only saw you punch young Anderson. I must take his words." He spoke into the microphone, "Anderson, Sally, please come through." They sulked through the door and he held a tissue pathetically to his face.

"Yes sir?" They said in unison.

"Please express what happened." The Head demanded.

"Well, we were walking innocently down the maths corridor and then John came out of no where and decided to start yelling at us. We tried to walk away but then he grabbed my arm and Anderson tired to get him off. That's when he punched him." Sally said.

"Is this true, Anderson, Watson?"

"Yes."

"No!" John said in outrage. "In all due respect sir, I cannot sit down and allow these two to ruin my chances at this college. Please look at the CCTV footage." John calmed himself down with a few techniques his old therapist taught him.

"Good suggestion, Mr. Watson." A voice came from the door, James, the techie, had let himself into the Heads office.

"Excuse me!" The professor exclaimed.

"I am sorry for just barging in here, sir, but I saw the events unfold and I believe that Mr. Watson is innocent."  
"Right, ok." The Head spoke, taken back, "If you would look through the tapes please Mr. James. I trust you will show me and the three of you the footage Wednesday at 2.30 pm. Good day." He pointed to the door and they all walked out in silence.

"Nice one idiot," they spat before leaving John and James together.

"Ignore 'em," James said in his weird accent that no one could quite pin.

"I know, I know.. It wasn't my fault." John whispered as they walked back to his dorm block. "Why did you stick up for me?" But before he could get a response James shook his head in his crazy fashion and walked off in the other direction. John didn't mind James' presence, he seemed to be the only _sane_ staff member here.

* * *

When John finally emerged to his dorm, he went over and nibbled on Sherlock's ear lightly, leaving the man to moan over his desk. Not wanting to miss a moment of John's presence, he spun around and took John in with a deep lingering kiss. "I- Was- Really- Worried- That- You- Had- Gone- Too- long-" Sherlock stumbled between many kisses.

"Yeah, sorry, got into a fight and then the principal wanted to talk to me... Yeah, sorry for that... Any leads?" John said between breaths once he broke away.

"What? Are you ok?" Sherlock's voice grew with worry. "And no, none whatsoever. I am getting a delightful Skype call of Mycroft later to discuss what will happen next."

"I am fine, just a hiccup with Anderson and Sally thats all." John tried to hide his disappointment before dragging his boyfriend onto the bed with him. "Oh hello there," John winked at the man, he lay on top of Sherlock and started to kiss him deeply. Sherlock started grinding their hips slightly, as if it was his first time, his kisses grew eager. John moaned into the other man's mouth when Sherlock gingerly moved his hand down to John's trousers and started rubbing Skype notification awoke them from their current state and Sherlock moved uneasily to the Laptop and opened the list. With a discontent sign, he let the call drop. He turned back to John who was sat on the bed with an uncomfortable looking erection, "do you mind if I... Um... '_Use_' the bathroom?" John laughed, Sherlock nodded and allowed his boyfriend to clear himself.

* * *

He called Mycroft back once his pupils had constricted and his breathing steadied. "Hello brother," he said hastily.

"Oh, hello Sherlock. I trust you have the evidence you have refused to given to the police at hand." Sherlock nodded, trying to ignore the distant purposely audible moans from the bathroom, and showed his older brother the note.

"There's no fingernail scrapings, hair, fiber, body fluids, scents or anything that can lead you to the killer. Apart from that it would have had to been an inside job at the college as no one noticed anyone strange in the assembly hall." Mycroft shook his head and noted some things down.

"I see you've conducted all the tests you physically can. I urge you to give these over to the police officer standing outside of the door right now." Sherlock nodded and did as what he was told, not wanting to anger his brother or the police anymore than he already had.

"Will that be all? I have a term paper to write." Sherlock lied through his teeth to his brother frequently but he only did it to hide his human side from him.

"No. One more thing. You and your roommate need to leave for a few days." John walked into the camera shot and cuddled Sherlock from behind in front of his brother. Sherlock tried to shake him off, but eventually gave in.

"No, we can't do that. Not at all. Sorry." John replied. He refused to leave this school and Sherlock.

"We predict there will be another murder John. Please keep that danger in mind and get- off- my- brother!" He demanded. John broke off and sulked off the screen and sat on the bed in an obscure position. "Now thats out the way; Sherlock, just leave."

"No I will not. I will continue living here. Thank you very much." He became angry at his brother for treating John in such a way and slammed his laptop shut. He lay down next to John and tried to apologise for his brothers behaviour, knowing how attitudes can affect someone else's emotions. John discarded it.

"Tomorrow, if you want, we can go see the Bournemouth air show? We could visit Harry too," John asked optimistically.

"Sounds... Tolerable." Sherlock replied before kissing John softly.

They grew closer, and started rubbing their bodies together gently. John, taking the initiative, took Sherlocks trousers in his hand and started rubbing softly. Growing even more eager, Sherlock deepened the kiss and started to remove John's top, nibbling at the exposed skin on this neck and chest. John saw how Sherlock was squirming and saddled him to keep him still, noting how turned on it made Sherlock to be under his control. He removed Sherlock's top and expertly started licking his nipples, whilst removing his trousers. Once they had been discarded on the floor, his kissed down his abdomen to his scars, picking out each individual scar, he kissed each one from groan to knee. He licked Sherlocks length through his boxers before removing them. He pecked Sherlock a few times on his length before gently biting up it. Sherlock began to tighten his muscles and his breathing became very heavy before he was able to mumble "no," and flip them over. He took off all of John's clothing and without warning took him in completely. Sucking and licking the base and tip of John, he started to grind his teeth against him. He swirled his tongue around John's tip and licked manically along the vein that ran along the length underneath. Once John was bucking his hips in intense pleasure and was spilling out pre-come, Sherlock inserted a finger into him, thrusting it deeper and spacing him out. He inserted another finger, to John's demands and began to scissor. "Ready?" Sherlock asked nervously, John nodded in return and Sherlock slowly entered him. John let out a cry in both pain and pleasure before starting to thrust his hips again slowly. He took John's length and started pumping in time with their hips. Sherlock was almost fully inside John when they both started moaning and biting wherever they could manage. He flipped john over so he was on hands and knees and started thrusting deeper and harder into him whilst gripping harder onto him. John started to become tighter, so Sherlock guessed he was close and therefore started thrusting faster and deeper with each push. He had started shaking the whole bed with each thrust, making John scream and Sherlock growl deeply. John came on the headboard above him, seeing stars and made Sherlock pull out of him. He began to stroke Sherlocks length roughly, before making Sherlock come eagerly onto John's chest. Using his finger to mop up Sherlocks come, John cleaned himself before licking his hands clean too. They fell onto each other shakily and sighed in content, before sleeping in each others arms.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please be sure to leave a review, I love hearing from you all:3**

**-Beth**


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